So, given all this, my only choice is to take action that would be…uncharacteristic. And make sure I keep as much of my plans to myself as I can.
“We’re going to have to assume that everyone is a spy,” I say. “We will no longer speak of plans.”
“Then how will we coordinate anything?”
“Kings do not coordinate. They give orders. Which you will follow without question, as will everyone else.” I lift my chin. “Spread the word. We are in a state of emergency and our vampocracy is over. We are officially in a dicvampireship.”
“That just sounds like a dick is in charge.”
“Exactly. And what were you just saying about language?”
“Sorry.” She glances down at her shoes.
“Please, just get the word out: Heads will dust if my orders aren’t obeyed.” If I can keep everyone guessing, I just might be able to outsmart the other side. Let them see a piece of the puzzle, but keep the big picture to myself.
“Yes, sir!” she says cheerfully.
I grab a piece of paper from her printer to jot down a bunch of instructions—buy plane tickets to Blackpool, care and feeding instructions for Mr. Nice, and snacks for tonight’s wedding. I hand the list over. “Got it covered?”
She nods.
“Good. Now burn that and don’t be late.” This vampire is done being playdough. I am molding the terrain and taking control of this farce.
Darn it! Lula was right again. Maybe I am the only option we have to win this. But why does she always have to be righter than me?
I spend the rest of the afternoon talking to the generals and explaining that we are going to have to change the way things are done if we have any hope of formulating a successful defense. Encrypted orders will be sent to each general. I will be the only one with a full view of the game plan. This way, if I suspect one general is not on our side, I can misdirect him. But under no circumstances will anyone know the entirety of my plans. With any luck, this will also flush out the spies. If a piece of information is acted upon, I will know who is the mole.
My first order of business is sending a message to Otto, our general in Europe, that I will be arriving in two days’ time to discuss strategies. I do not mention the pits or Nice being here in Phoenix.
Viviana has purchased plane tickets, but they are merely to cover my true plans. I have called in a favor from an old friend and quietly arranged my own transportation. The benefit to being a vampire as old as myself is that I have several secret identities, which enable me to travel under a different name. After the party, I will take Miriam, Lula, and four guards with me to “a night club.” I will take their phones, and we will get on a chartered plane to Liverpool. Upon arrival, I will leave Miriam on the plane with the guards, and Lula and I will scope out the location of the council members. If any are in fact still there, then I will summon Otto to a location nearby and ask that he bring a few hundred men. We will free the remaining council members, divide them into groups, and send them to secure locations only myself and Lula will know. From there, I can help them set up remote offices and get them back in control of their regions. Once everything is in place, I will return to Arizona and flip the power back to them so I may focus on my own priorities: keeping those I care about safe. And…figuring out why Miriam is not only a danger magnet, but a vampire magnet, too.
“Michael?” Viviana sticks her head into my office. “I need to take care of a few errands, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be taking off early.” She hands me a pink Post-it that reads, See you at your new apartment. Going to get everything set up.
I nod. “See you tomorrow.”
I finish up writing the last of the instructions for each of my generals. The emails are locked with passwords only they will know: the dates they were turned. I can only hope that our enemies do not have access to such information. The only reason I have it is because the prior leader of the Arizona Society of Sunshine Love was a kiss-ass. He had Viviana research the dates and sent them all little Happy Vampiversary gift baskets each year.
I send the messages off, shut down for the day, and head over to the library. By the time I arrive, Miriam and Lula are just coming out the front door and locking up. From the looks of their smiles and laughter, they had a good time today.
Good. Our wedding day should be a happy one, even if my bride does not know what we are about to do.
I contentedly watch the two women giggling away, and then something happens. Miriam flips her long hair over her shoulder, and it’s in slow motion. The sun bounces off the golden hues of her silky blonde strands. She smiles, and it radiates from within, igniting a warmth deep inside my chest. Her soulful eyes twinkle with a keen awareness.
So lovely. I’ve noticed there’s an intelligence in those eyes she tries to mask. Perhaps that is what lures me in. Her secrets make me feel like she is the mystery I was born to unlock.
I stand there frozen, completely captivated. Breathless. Wondering how in the hell I am ever going to let her go, but knowing I must. Tonight we marry, and if I want to keep my sanity, I cannot let my heart wish for more than that. A ceremony. Not that she wants a real marriage, but if she did, it would not work. I am a vampire and she needs to stay human. Those two things do not mix.
“Hey, Mikey!” Lula says. “I gotta run, but see ya later at the shindig.”
“Where are you off to?” Miriam asks Lula, shoving her keys into her little brown purse.
“I have a few errands to run, but I’ll be right behind you.” Lula gives Miriam a hug and walks off in the direction of downtown.
“So.” I stand there on the sidewalk, a few feet away from the woman I am about to wed in a matter of hours, while cars zoom by on the busy street. My hands are shaking. Why are my hands shaking? None of this is real. You’d best remember that, man.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
I shove my hands in my jeans pockets, forcing myself to deny any and all urges to give tonight any further indecent or unrealistic thoughts.
“Oh. Uh…well,” I reply, “I brought you to work this morning. Seemed only befitting that I take you home.”
“Don’t you have a party to prepare for?” she asks.
“It’s more of a small gathering. It’s all taken care of.”
“Still, I’m sure you need to heat up food, put out plates and stuff. I’ll just grab an Uber.” Miriam hitches her purse strap higher on her shoulder and starts digging out her phone.
Over my cold undead body. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll take you home to change, and you can come with me to my place.”
“Then I’ll just have to take an Uber home tonight, and it’s going to be late.”
This is what I love—I mean enjoy—about Miriam. She is smart and hard to fool. It also irritates the hell out of me when I need to fool her. “Very well. You caught me.”
She narrows her big brown eyes in suspicion.
I continue, “I was going to surprise you later, but considering your love of packing…we’re leaving tonight!”
“For the UK?” Her eyes grow even bigger.
“Yep. A friend owes me a favor and offered his jet.”
“Your friends have private planes?” she questions. “And what did you do to deserve that kind of favor?”
I helped him win the US Civil War. “It’s a long story, but we’re old, old friends.” I swipe my hand dismissively through the air. “And hey, considering how tight money is for you and me, I thought this would be the perfect compromise. Free flight. We look at the book collection. We’re back before we even have jet lag.” What a load of improbable crap. I hope she buys it.
“What about the library? I haven’t had a chance to train the new people or anything. They’re supposed to come in tomorrow.”
“Call and tell them to come when you return,” I suggest. “You’ll only be gone a day. Two tops. I’m sure everyone knows how to return books through that little slot.”
“I don’t know, Michael.” She
fidgets with the strap of her purse. “I’ve had the library closed a lot because of all that land developer garbage. Then there was your cult, and—”
“I understand. Completely. Why don’t you stay here, then?” I hope this reverse psychology trick works for me like it did for Lula earlier. “I can text you photos of any books I think might be worth something. Besides, I’m sure all those first edition Jane Austens he bragged about were counterfeit.”
“Jane Austens?” Her voice perks up.
“My uncle was a fan of the classics, but I bet there are a ton of those autographed Pride and Prejudices around.” I have no idea if this is true. I only know that Miriam needs to stay by my side as much as possible. Or…maybe it is I who needs to be by her side. After Nice’s oddball behavior earlier, I’m feeling less and less sure about having anyone guard her. For certain, I do not want to be halfway around the world while she remains here, so far from reach. At least if she comes with me, we will only be separated for a few short hours, and we will be in the same geographical area.
“You know what? You’re right. I can make this work,” she says.
The non-pushy technique was successful? “So you’re coming?”
“I hardly take vacations, even during the holidays. I’m sure my patrons will understand.”
I try not to appear too excited. “Great. Then let’s get to your place so you can pack a few things, and we’ll head to my new apartment.”
We go to my little blue car and, screw me, but I feel something shifting between me and Miriam. I cannot quite put my finger on it, but I am on edge during the entire drive to her house about twenty minutes away.
The feeling only grows as I wait in her living room while she packs. It is almost like these thoughts of “us” is creating a reaction. Is it inside me? Inside her? Both?
“Okay. All ready!” Miriam comes out of her bedroom carrying a backpack, dressed in tight jeans and a white, slightly see-through blouse with a lacy white brassiere underneath. I almost lose my mind.
Sweet devil of lust, what is she wearing? She looks sexier than hell in jeans—the curve of her hips and shape of her body—and the view of her brassiere, albeit obscured, only makes me think about what lies underneath. Boobies.
I release a deep sigh of appreciation. I so very much love boobies. And hers look like two ripe pieces of fruit at the market, just begging to be squeezed.
God, I cannot believe I am to marry this woman, but cannot touch her. And by touch, I mean bed her. She is too damned beautiful.
“So, do I look all right?” she asks, a glint of flirtation in her eyes and a wicked little smile on her plump lips.
Regrettably, I am an open book, and she’s just read my pages. She knows I like what I see. I cannot pretend otherwise. Perhaps the drool running down the side of my mouth was a giveaway.
But why is she doing this to me? Why the sudden change in her behavior?
I know nothing about the connection between us, but I do know it’s there. This is proof. It has to be. Because, for the first time since we’ve met, I’m pulling away. I cannot allow myself to forget the truth: She can never be my wife—not for real. To do so would destroy her and, frankly, me. To marry a human, only to watch her die after a few short decades? Sounds like the sort of tragedy a man should avoid at all costs. Nevertheless, it is almost as if she senses my internal struggle. I am trying to put an emotional barrier between us, and she’s whipping out the carrots. So many carrots, I groan internally.
For certain, this is a new dynamic between us. Mouse chasing cat. Regardless of the reason, I cannot give in.
But she looks so…so damned tasty. I want a nibble. Just one.
“Su-sure,” I stutter. “You look, yanno, okay.”
“You look flushed. Are you sweating?”
Vampires do not sweat. We can, but we generally do not—one of the perks of being cold-blooded. “I, uh…ate some really spicy peppers for lunch today.”
“You really need to lay off the hot food, Michael. You probably have a hole in your stomach.”
I should be so lucky. It would provide me with a distraction. “You ready?” I jerk my head toward the front door.
“Sure!” She actually sounds excited. “Got my passport, laptop for looking up information on the books, and some good reading for the flight.”
I take her backpack. “Oh, that reminds me. I wanted to keep the charter plane a surprise for Lula. So if you’d keep that to yourself?” Really, I do not want to discuss any plans in public. I am unsure of who might be listening.
“Lula’s coming? How wonderful.”
“Indeed,” I reply, ignoring all thoughts of wanting to be alone on my wedding night with my bride.
“I have to say, Michael, she is one special woman to stay friends with you after your messy breakup.”
Messy breakup? Lula and I were never in a relationship. All that had been a lie because I needed to explain why Lula hung around so much. There were other reasons for the lie, too, but it all came back to bite me in the ass. I truly wish I could stop lying to Miriam. I know she is unwilling to hear the truth, but my life would be much easier if I did not have to make up stories to cover my activities.
“What did she tell you?” I refrain from growling.
“Nothing,” she says innocently. “Just that it’s over for good between you two.”
Did Miriam ask Lula if I am single? “How did this subject come up?”
Miriam offers a shrug. “Can’t really remember.”
She’s lying. She did ask. Once again, I find myself having to tamp down any thoughts of taking this further. Whatever the hell this is.
“Are you ready?” I ask, wanting to change subjects.
“You have no idea.” Miriam sets the security alarm and trots outside. I have never seen such a spring in her step, and for a moment, I am happy, too. Until I remember that it is all a ruse—the party, the trip, everything Miriam knows about me.
I do not know when. I do not know how. But if I cannot have Miriam, at the very least, I want to have an honest relationship with her. This bullcrap needs to end.
Of course, there’s a strong possibility that if she ever learned the truth about tonight, she might not forgive me. Duped into marrying a vampire. Sounds like the title of another Fanged Love book.
CHAPTER NINE
“Shouldn’t we wait until your other friends arrive before we play?” Miriam says, from the lackluster-beige couch in my new living room.
I hand her a glass of red wine, a necessary prop for the ceremony. I ignore the fact she’s batted her eyelashes at me at least five times since we arrived and that this time makes six.
“No. They won’t mind,” I reply. “Plus, I could really use a warm-up. I haven’t played this game in a very long time.”
Viviana and Lula are chatting it up in the kitchen, which is part of the main room, divided into three sections—dining area, living room, and, of course, the kitchen. The furnishings are nice and new, but basic. Lots of grays and khaki with a light hardwood floor. The new stainless steel appliances are missing the roaches I have become accustomed to, which is a big plus. A few vibrant desertscapes liven up the place, and a flat-screen TV mounted to the wall is on mute but set to the Weather Channel.
Wonderful. A storm is rolling in. I pray it will not impact our departure. Just as I pray that whatever’s happening between Miriam and me won’t throw me off. I must stay focused on tonight’s task: Marry. Get guards. Head to plane, already on standby at airport.
“Lula, Viviana,” I call to get their attention, “you two are in need of a little charades warm-up, right?”
Both women give me the deer-in-headlights look.
Yes, ladies, it is nuptial showtime. Chop-chop, I think to myself.
“Errr…yeah. I would love to play,” says Lula.
“Me too,” Viviana chimes in. “You know us drama coaches, always looking for any excuse to show off our acting skills. Should I do some Shakespeare for you?”
/>
With Miriam’s head turned, I mouth, “Cool it!” to Viviana. She’s laying it on a little thick. This pre-party couldn’t get any more stressful or weirder if—
The front door flies open. “Vanderhorstsssth! I am here!”
Oh dear Jesus. It is Nice, and he is an hour early. I arranged a driver to pick him up at seven, so what the heck is he doing here?
And what the hell is he wearing? It is the black pleather gimp suit with a lace dickie. And a regular dickie, too. The crotch of his pants is so tight we can see everything. Two golf balls and a flashlight.
Well, at least he’s got that going for him. Because the clothes? Not so attractive.
“Come in, sir, make yourself comfortable.” I rush to close the door behind him and whisper, “We are about to perform the ceremony. Just remember, she wants to pretend that it’s nothing more than a game.”
“Your ruse is safe with me.” Nice locks his lips and throws away the key. His eyes then lock onto Miriam, and he zips over. “My sweet, sweet librarian.” He takes her hand and kisses the top. “You are even more beautiful than I remember.”
“Uh…thank you?” She tugs her hand away. “Mr. Nice, was it?”
“Yesss… You remember me,” he hisses in a low voice. “Just as I remember you. You and your sexy collection of books.” His dark eyes flicker with lust.
Is he hitting on her? “Can I get you something to drink, sir?” I sneer.
“No.” He continues beaming down with his beady, sharklike eyes at Miriam, who is silently panicking—flushed cheeks and the smell of fear wafting from her skin. She’s only met Nice once, but it was enough to terrify her and make an impression.
“So nice to see you again.” Her back stiffens.
“Yes…so Nice. But perhaps we should ensure there are many more encounters. Would you like that?” The corners of his mouth twitch with a wicked smile, and it dawns on me that maybe he is not here to witness the ceremony.
He’s here to steal the bride. My already cold blood turns to ice. “Lula, why don’t you give Mr. Nice a tour of the apartment.” There are only three rooms—this one, the bathroom, and the bedroom, but it will buy me a few seconds to think. I have to do something.
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